


wolfskin

by Sawadoot



Category: Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: M/M, domestic life, fuzhu! lan wangji, modern au with fantasy elements, werewolf! wei wuxian, word vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sawadoot/pseuds/Sawadoot
Summary: Lan Wangji proposes an orthodox way to aide his struggling husband.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

Spice, a pinch of sugar, and a heap of luck. Tacks of smoke-dried hams, barrels of dried grains, assorted containers of rice decorating shelving in a dull-colored palette. Wedged between the floorboards and the bottom stair a note, wrinkled and tread.

Pens and pencils scatter every remaining surface punctuated by the occasional sticky note, or handwritten notepad is forgotten mid-sentence in blue, black, sometimes purple, or red—the very definition of organized chaos. 

Wei Wuxian spends his days frequently curled up in his office with a stack of research texts, ninety-something barely discernible notes, and lukewarm cups of black coffee skim with milk. A pen behind his ear, tongue poking out the edge of his lips, swiping over the cracks before disappearing inside his dry mouth.

It's days like this, the sun casting a dull glow through sunshowers, that he can relax a bit more. Let his ears out, tail loose, and forget about the possibility of discovery inside his own one-person home. The old AC rattles, whining now and then, the leaky sink drips in slow, steady tandem nearly lulling him to sleep now slumped above the work table, spinning images of quickly hopping rabbits filling his vision. 

He nearly does so right then when the front door rattles, ears perking against his will Wei Wuxian cracks one eye open— warily. He hopes for the sake of his near dozing that it's his husband, soulmate returning from a long day of boring meetings and extended coffee runs to cuddle him hopefully and soothe the inner restlessness that comes with every half-moon.

Much to his delight, a telltale rattling of keys turns the lock open, and though he can't  _ see _ the light footsteps of his Lan Zhan are just enough to alert of his arrival. Wei Wuxian remains curled against the table, far too tired to do more than raise his head in a silly half-smile and say," Welcome home!" as he means it— and he does.

The sight of his beautifully crafted husband is enough to drive any man out of his wits, and Wei Wuxian is not opposed to this. 

At the sound of his voice his handsome, fantastic, amazing husband turns his head a little too fast and with a resounding" ah," both giant, Wei Wuxian isn't sure how he lifts his head with them, antlers are once again trapped between both frames either side of the door in the most ungraceful display he has ever seen of Lan Wangji. 

Wei Wuxian splutters a laugh, clapping his hand over his mouth now wide awake to the plight of his confused looking husband. They should reconstruct more full doors for this is the fifth—? the time that this has happened in their recent marriage." Oh my gods, Lan Zhan, ah, your face!" The thought of it has him reeling once more, sprawled along the floor, and laughing so hard he can barely see through tears. 

" Husband." Lan Wangji flatlines though there's a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Gently he shook himself free, frowning at the minor marks they left on the wood.

" I'm sorry I just—" A wheeze." Your face looked so funny!" Palms pressed against his eyes hard enough to see shapes, Wei Wuxian can hardly breathe for the picture his husband made just then. Lan Wangji's lips pressed together in a thin line, displeased. 

Wei Wuxian does his best to scale back howls of laughter until they're throaty hiccups, and he's wiping tears from his eyes, scrubbing at them with the heel of his palm. "Lan Zhan," he says after a hiccup that sounds more like a whine. "Come here," One brow queried Lan Zhan did as his husband requested, he couldn't deny him anything even when he's relentlessly  _ bullying _ . Though he can't remember a time when Wei Ying wasn't poking and prodding, trying to get under his skin, to be the center of his world, he thinks almost fondly as his husband reaches out and all but gathers him into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Lan-er-gege," His most somber tone is nearly ruined by a giggle. "If I give you a kiss, will it make you feel better?" Lan Zhan knows this game, hiding a smile he shakes his head 'no,' and to his delight, Wei Ying knows precisely what his husband wants. "Two kisses?"

Lan Zhan pretends to be thinking it over as he toys with the loose straps of Wei Ying's ridiculous trap pants, the ones he'd insisted were cool even though the idea of loose straps hanging past your knees seem funny. "Mm." It's not quite agreement, a barter, Wei Ying laughs, the sound ringing in his ears as he replies, "How about as many kisses as you want?" 

Now  _ that  _ was more like it. "Deal."

The rest of the evening was spent punctuated by kisses.

* * *

On the eve of a full moon, his wolf becomes restless, pacing, demanding to be freed. It's those days that Wei Wuxian is too sick to eat, he's crabby, his teeth will hurt relentlessly to the point they've started bringing baby teethers into the house just for him to chew on. There's a designated pillow for shredding, but today nothing is helping. He's called out of work for the next few days in anticipation, so there isn't a worry about public appearances. It's the principle of sitting around doing nothing but watch old cartoons and teething on a baby ring shaped like waves and filled with little plastic sea creatures. 

He's restless.

It's the days of old, another grievance to the long list of old god metaphors and traditional curses. Lucky four-leaf clovers are a twist of luck just like two left feet, and at some moments, Wei Wuxian wishes he could pry his teeth out for all the pain they cause him pre-transformation. Eager to roam, to do what wolves do, and shed into more healthy skin.

But instead, it's another Daffy Duck episode and this plastic baby teether along for the ride. Maybe he should try something new? Lan Zhan won't let him near a toaster, the garden tending was already completed for the day five whole hours ago in a fit of rage which may or may not have involved popping a defenseless stress ball with the corners of his fangs and throwing every teether they own down the stairs. The anger he feels before turning is unwarranted and frankly unnecessary, but it isn't up to him which of the wolves' side effects he gains.

New transformations are the worst. It's times like this he mourns for his previous body, the one accustomed to long-term evolutions and spikes of adrenaline. May Cousin Mo rest in peace all that he is, Wei Wuxian is grateful for the pelt that places him here, with Lan Zhan but really? Not a single note on tips, he's just supposed to figure it out? 

He can barely operate an electric can opener without some sudden instinct to howl at it.

Gnawing on the chew toy, he's got twenty-something markers scattered around his ankles; some wedged beneath where they'd rolled unawares. An open sketchbook lies there in all it's nonsensical glory, covered with a half a dozen half busts, plants, and foods that Wei Wuxian remembered were especially tasty. The TV plays an old western faded into background noise, static and reassuring. 

He's restless. He wants to  _ run _ ; he wants to  _ fight; he _ wants to  _ fuck.  _ Wei Wuxian wants to be rough, an all-out brawl Lan Wangji would never approve of. He's cooped up in this house with nothing to do but skim a half-dozen reports, free research, and continue to do  _ boring adult things—the _ toy squeaks in protest at a rather harsh bite.

He could nail a half-pike right now if not forbidden to put himself at risk before a full moon. It's reasonable, somewhat, but he needs something directly the fuck now if he's going to continue like this. His inner wolf agrees with a sharp bark.

Swiping the keys from their hook, he toes on a pair of slip-on and locks the door behind him.

The supermarket has always been a place of many scents and oddities. Wei Wuxian eyes the steaks in his hands, weighing his options, resisting the urge to rip into them right now before a quarter-full shop of patrons. In the end, he puts both in the basket and pursues the spice aisles for something Lan Wangji can stomach. Lan's stomachs are weak; with their bland congees, salads, and soups, it's a wonder they don't consider flour a spice. To compromise so that Lan Zhan doesn't spend the evenings on death's door and Wei Ying to enlighten his tongue with an actual taste they've agreed to try a combination of spices each meal until they concede to a happy medium which proves to be harder than he initially thought considering Lan Wangji finds salt spicy. He finds chili peppers to be lacking. 

Spice racks lined nearly perfect, ten or so different spices not limited to cayenne and thyme filling the basket, Wei Ying minding his own business happily attempting to remember how much nutmeg they have at home. It's a clear day, not a cloud in sight; the weather is pleasantly cold with the breeze. And a pounding headache flaring somewhere in the back of his mind.

He supposes he'll snag a box of Advil on the way out; after shedding his wolfskin, there's always a migraine sure to follow, and he'd instead not end up in the unfortunate situation involving no painkillers and a wicked head-splitting ache again. 

Wei Wuxian scans the clumsily improvised McDonald's napkin shopping list once more' X'ing items out with a sharpie he discovered in the glove compartment of his car from several weeks ago. Anything that enters the vehicle gravitate's into the glove box or onto the floor of the backseat. His vehicle is due for another clean-out sometime soon, but then again, there's always something useful in there, and he doesn't see the point in keeping his car as impeccably clean as his husband.

You would think he's an Uber driver with the amount of care he put into cleaning up spilled crumbs and adding fancy vanilla-scented air fresheners.

The line is somewhat long enough that he found himself idly flipping through gossip magazines from the racks, scanning scandal columns, and scoffing on occasion reminding himself that he becomes more his mother's child day in day out. The thought is as heartwarming as it is embarrassing.

" Cool ears," Says the cashier in a tone which suggests they're attempting to make small talk and find it weird that a grown man (he hadn't realized his ears were out up until this point) was playing dress-up with presumably a fake pair of animal ears." Thanks! I made them myself." His words aren't untrue. At the look, their local cashier gives him he's hoofing it out of the store at a brisk business walk, bags in hand.

Later once the groceries are safely in the trunk, Wei Ying locks his car while screaming into the steering wheel.

* * *

He's grumpy, and he doesn't care who knows it. They're sitting in the kitchenette inside Yanli's expensive, newly built house her husband insisted on having made for them so that she can have the kitchen of her dreams. (which is sweet in a disgusting way.) Lan Zhan is currently preventing him from gnawing on the skin of his knuckles because it's a nasty habit he says, which, who cares about that when his teeth hurt so bad! Yanli is glancing between them with worry creases in her brows.

" A-Ying—" Here comes the concern express pulling into the station." Are you sure you'll be alright to turn tonight?" 

Wei Ying knows that he's sick of Lan Zhan's hands in his face correcting his habits and making it harder to get relief. He knows the frustration is merely a product of his own pent up emotions and that they're concerned but really— he's not a child.

His words fumble, coming out almost incoherent."  _ Yes."  _

He's learned to shed his human form almost religiously since he was old enough to understand what it meant to become one of the pack since Madame Yu had scolded him so fiercely for his misdeeds in wolfskin. A little agitation won't affect how he transforms no matter the concern. 

"No need to be worried!" He quickly adds, making sure to flash one of those half-grins Lan Zhan loves so much. Usually, he prefers to shed forms at home where it's more convenient. Still, lately, Lan Zhan has been worried about his behaviors afterward, considering it's a newer form, quite different from being a werecat like the Jiang family lineage. However, for all their differences, there are many similarities, such as behaviorisms affecting the way bodies react to the full moon, dietary instances, and overall relationships. Lan Zhan being a Fuzhu himself though it would be of sound mind to consult Jiang Yanli.

"Only if you're sure…" His JieJie doesn't sound very convinced; his senior sister is very kind. 

"Yep!" Wei Ying nips at Lan Zhan's hand lightly in warning, though, this doesn't deter him one bit if anything encourages him to continue his ministrations of brushing the crumbs off the corner of his mouth and combing his fingers through his hair with the other hand. Wei Ying is practically sitting in his lap, an embarrassing act on its own if Jiang Yanli weren't so familiar with their overly affectionate ways.

"Promise me that nothing will happen to you." Lan Zhan sounds grave, the fingers in his hair stilling before resuming their gentle combing. In all, Wei Ying doesn't see what the big deal is, and he's growing agitated by the fuss.

"Promise."

"Then mark your words."

He crosses his heart twice, minds the third. "Marked."

A pinch of luck, wit, and trust. He works the cogs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has nsfw content! Read at your own disgression

Pork and lotus soup is the only real meal Wei Wuxian knows how to make by heart. Lan Wangji cooks most meals to ensure something at least slightly healthy enters his husband's system other than the typical Quaker Oats granola bar or many venti cold brews spiked with sugar and copious amounts of caramel sauce.

He could practically live off coffee given a chance.

A chance Lan Zhan refuses to let him take for all that is good and holy, and ADHD related. Usually, caffeine won't make him ping off the walls. Still, occasionally his hyperactivity tripled, and then you get bad ideas with worse results, such as January's golf-cart incident.

Yes, Wei Ying thinks, gnawing at another plastic baby ring, this time pink with sakura petal glitter on the inside, tonight; his wolf will finally be freed. Every waning moon makes him impatient and uncomfortable in his skin. He'll hunt rabbits, maybe moles. Lan Zhan will try to save the rabbits he knows, but he won't let his husband starve, will he?

Wei Ying chuckles to himself, muffled by the teether in between his lips.

Lan Zhan, the good husband that he is, glances up from his novel momentarily at the sound of laughter, gives him a soft smile that makes Wei Ying's heart go weak, and returns to the shitty love novel he insists are not.

There are other ways to distract himself; a minute of heat flares up inside him at the mere thought of his husband— lifelong mate, engaging in less than savory activities. That gets him thinking, and like that, a plan hatches.

Operation one-good-fuck.

He clasps his hands together, saintly. He was practically bouncing out of the family room with a one raised brow Lan Zhan watching him go.

* * *

A mess of limbs and shortened breaths is how Lan Zhan finds him that afternoon in their bed, spread-legged, flushed. Hair plastered to the planes of his shoulders, a sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. "Wei Ying," he says, concerned, before drinking in the full-body shiver, just saying his name elicits. A strangled moan vibrated somewhere between his throat and the back of his tongue. Wei Ying looks the part of a cat in heat.

Lan Zhan would be lying to say he isn't a little bit turned on at the sight of his partner so disengaged, so pliant for him. The view of Wei Ying wanting and yearning for him, only him.

" Lan—" Wei Ying cuts himself off with another moan, his heavy tongue inside of his mouth, laden at the base and so sweet, Lan Zhan would taste so sweet right about now. Shamelessly, Wei Ying would like to acknowledge that his husband has a fat cock, and no one would know better than himself.

It's as if Lan Zhan was crafted for himself, perfectly molded, shaped in all the right ways that make his toes curl, strong yet gentle, and oh, how Wei Ying flusters beneath that strength. The fact his husband could push him down, have his way with a single slight of his hand as if Wei Ying isn't achingly hard already. He feels himself practically throb over the amount of strength he knows Lan Zhan possesses in a single pinky, let alone his entire body, which needs to be fucking him into the wall right now, or so help me.

Wei Ying is so horny, and today his husband is going to indulge all of it. A shuddering little sigh passed his lips, encouraging Lan Zhan to approach. Bright-eyed and hungry at the meal set before him, undeterred by the long, languid movements of his already drooling partner.

" Lan Zhan," He crooned sweetly." C' mere, husband." An index finger extends, beckoning, and Lan Wangji is hovering over him in moments. His eyes aflame, the uniform neatness of his clothes rumpled in disarray. A smug, prideful thought curls warmly within Wei Ying's gut. That he could make the untouchable Lan Wangji, Huanguan-jun comes apart with just a gaze. Only he can do that because Lan Zhan is his and likewise.

A tentative kiss quickly turns into something deeper, something more possessive that has Wei Ying practically keening beneath Lan Zhan's eager hands trailing up and down his sides. Livid sparks of anticipation, running themselves up to his spine in white-hot bursts. Molten heat going straight to his dick.

" Lan-er, gege, don't you want to bed me? Your pretty husband— ah—" Lan Wangji bit him. Fangs pressed against the soft skin of his nape, nipping at his ear, Wei Ying throws his head back immediately and receives a nip at the throat for his efforts." Mn," His husband's eyes are dark, suggesting the sort of things he'd love to do as if the library isn't already a bucket list item.

" Hey," Lan Zhan makes a noise of acknowledgment, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone. Wei Ying flicks his forehead; his arm is seized carefully in response.

Lan Zhan lifts his chin, eyes amused as he says," Hey yourself." Before busying his incisors along the underside of Wei Ying's jaw, tugging the perforation of his bone, leaving a tender trail of marks in his wake.

Below him, Wei Ying squirms uncomfortably.

Lan Zhan is hovering just above him, horns a delicate crown, ethereal around his head as a sharp halo. The sunlight is spilling from hastily pulled curtains across his face, chest, and arms. Beautiful sheer wings folded against his back though they flutter now and again, his big blue, icicle wings. Sturdy and robust as a rumored Jade of Lan should be and yet so gentle for him. For Wei Ying only.

Inhaling the scent of sandalwood, he breathes deeply, reaching up with trembling hands to pull once quickly against the smooth crown of his horns. He wants Lan Zhan to fuck him into the next waning moon, to fuck him so hard he forgets his past, present, and if it isn't too much to ask, future.

Wei Ying presses a finger against the apparent hardness of his husband's length. Lan Zhan's long, boney fingers twitch in response." Hey, Lan Zhan." He says through his best hooded, lustful eyes he knows are practically keeling his partner over.

" Mn." Lan Wangji manages hoarsely; his throat suddenly dries at the coy look Wei Wuxian eyed at him. Pooling heat, meaningful glances, he allows his eyes to rake up and down the lithe frame of his body laid out before him, tied neatly inside one sheer inner robe her gifted Wei Ying for situations exactly like these. A pang of satisfaction leaves him breathless against his lips.

" Let me suck you off?" Lan Zhan groans at the sudden question; only Wei Ying could be so bold as to say it outright. He watches his husband cock his head (adorably) to the side in anticipation of a reply that couldn't be anything other than" yes." But Wei Ying wants to hear it, and who is Wangji to deny him anything.

" Please," The tips of his ears are bright red, Wei Ying finds that to be deathly cute!

" Since you asked so nicely." Wei Ying is already licking his lips in anticipation, leaning forward and with practiced ease taking the zipper of the jeans between his teeth, palming the underside of Lan Zhan's already fat cock.

He feels Lan Zhan's dick jump against his mouth as he pressed it against his clothed erection, mouthing at it to create just enough friction Lan Zhan restrains himself from rocking his hips forward to chase it. Wei Ying presses against one of his balls, experimentally delighting in the strangled moan he receives.

This time Lan Zhan does buck his hips forward, swaying against the warm mouth of his husband, who is enjoying himself just barely pulling back at the elastic of his waistband.

" Husband." Lan Zhan warns him. Wei Ying merely brushes it off with a smile, leaning over to lap at the tip already brimming with precome. Lan Zhan nearly sobs the second Wei Ying has his mouth on him though it's barely.

" Are you ready?" His husband teases, making a show of reaching up and tightening his ponytail. Lan Zhan chases his actions with hungry eyes, nodding slowly.

" Okay." That is all Wei Ying says before he's leaning over, swallowing his entire length full, letting it bottom out at the back of his throat, hands cupping his balls.

Lan Zhan moans unabashedly, gripping Wei Ying's hair keeping him there as he slowly breathes in and out through his nose in a steady rhythm, his eyes glazed over. The second Lan Zhan loosens his grip to something less restrictive, Wei Ying is bobbing his head up and down on his cock, ears twitching as he hollows his cheeks and sucks like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do.

" Wei Ying," He can hear his husband panting from above as he begins to swirl his tongue around, setting an unforgivable pace that has Lan Zhan cradling his head, keeping it pressed against his dick.

Wei Ying moans at that, for his Lan Zhan to take control even when he technically isn't. He hollows out his cheeks more, letting his cock hit the back of his throat in desperate thrusts with tears in his eyes.

It feels like hours before he pulls off with a wet smack.

Looking at his disheveled husband, he can't help but snide." How was my performance, Lan-Er-Gege?" He bats his lashes, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth. The way his husband's gaze snaps to the action has him weak. The ever-attentive Lan Wangji smiles.

" Wei Ying was perfect."

" Do you mean it?" He says, a hint of sincerity.

" Of course. Come here." And Lan Zhan makes these cute grabby hands that Wei Ying cannot refuse. He wants to squeal; his husband is the cutest.

He could almost forget how horny he truly is getting lost in those golden-brown eyes." My Lan Zhan is the most handsome man in the whole world." He's pleased by the tint of red blooming throughout his husband's ears.

He shivers right down to his toes.

They end up in a precarious position. Wei Ying seated on one leg, Lan Zhan manspread from his sitting position on the bed, his husband's erection pressing against his leg.

Wei Ying grinds his hips in slow, lazy circles against Lan Zhan's leg, gasping open-mouthed and pink-faced. He's a vision wrapped in red, and he's all his. Pretty dove that he is, his tail swiping the floor erratically, panting against Lan Zhan's chest.

He whines the second Lan Zhan pulls away, missing the friction.

The second he grasps what his husband is doing, he settles into a pliant state, allowing his husband to lift him with his frankly impressive muscles and seat him gently against the headboard of their bed, Wei Ying watching him with thick-lidded eyes.

" Kiss."

When their mouths met, he thought, I could stay in these arms forever.

* * *

The gentle pattering of rain across the roof and dripping down through the gutters leaves Wei Ying drowsy, content to stay in bed and listen to the steady breathing of his still sleeping husband.

It's soon. It will hurt; shedding one's firm always does. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to Lan Zhan's forehead before rising quietly from the bed, tiptoeing to a more convenient place and waiting for the moon to shine her brightest.

Agony. A white-hot sensation is crawling up his spine, slowly yet surely overtaking the utmost of his senses. Shocks run up and down his ankles, his hands, his torso.

He doubles over gasping for breath, hands pressed roughly to his abdomen, and his form begins to fill out. This time he won't let it get out of hand; he can control it. It's only subtle differences; it shouldn't be so difficult. A howl, low and long, overtakes him bubbling up from the innermost core of his being by instinct.

" Wei Ying?"

Lan Zhan stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. However, when he flips the light switch, a six-foot-tall wolf stands there in his place dressed in pajama pants, raking his claws down the granite counter.

They both freeze.

" Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan queries again, finding it odd he's so unresponsive.

And then wordlessly, Wei Ying charged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u tell i've never written nsfw lmao 
> 
> holler at me on twt


	3. Chapter 3

Something akin to a strangled moan comes slipping from the back of his throat as Wei Ying barrels him over full-force, his wolf snarling and snout bumping off the edge of his elbow with a pained howl.

Everything feels muddled. Wei Ying has  _ never _ attempted to attack another in his wolf form, even from the beginning of his rebirth into a new body. The worst he's ever attempted was to gnaw at the armchair.

Panic wells up inside his throat, alarm bells ringing deafeningly as all the blood rushes to his head, surfacing as a blotchy red. It's like the world is spinning on its axis, and Lan Zhan can’t steady its trajectory.

Wei Ying lunges again, knocking into the dish rack with a deafening crash as Lan Zhan whirls out of the way just in time to avoid a slash. And they're tumbling head over heels, Wei Ying’s wolf snapping at his neck and drooling while Lan Zhan fights him off, wrestling them to the floor where he can pin the beast down.

They go down, hitting the floor with muffled noises of discomfort, a choked howl from Wei Ying’s end, and a grunt leaves Lan Zhan’s throat. It’s a grapple for power, rolling around the kitchen floor and hitting cabinet corners, scraping across the well-laid tile.

“Wei Ying.” He tries, aware of the snapping fangs that nearly miss a tender spot where his jawline and neck connect, barely grazing the crook of it. “Wei Ying!”

His wolf sat up straight, blinking owlishly. His pupils were hazing in and out of focus—a whine tears from Wei Ying, low, and sad. Lan Zhan remaining where he is, elbows propped up against the floor, face blotchy from their tussling, eyes widened a fraction. Something is so wrong as to overtake his husband, a low thrum of energy surging between them. He shuffles the barest amount, attempting to ground himself, and watches in muted horror as Wei Ying’s pupils shrink.

It’s a half-second of breathing, just existing to formulate a cognitive thought. And then Wei Ying is once more upon him. Lan Zhan holding his jaw, not moving as they reach a standstill, the force so great between them he blearily registers a sharp cry of fear, followed by several more heart-breaking wails. A-Yuan stands in the kitchen doorway like a phantom, pajama pants pooling his ankles and face white in fear.

“Baba!” He wails, confused, and sleepy; tears pin pricking the corners of his wide eyes. “A-Die! Please don't fight!”

Wei Ying’s wolf perks up, momentarily distracted by their son’s presence.  _ No,  _ Lan Zhan thinks, feeling the tension in Wei Ying’s legs, coiling to spring.  _ Please.  _ He scrabbles for purchase against the matted fur of Wei Ying’s thigh, hoping to distract his wolf where he's pinned beneath him, back taunt across the cold kitchen linoleum. 

Directing his attention does nothing but cause Wei Ying to press harder into his ribs, Lan Zhan’s mouth opening in a soundless cry of pain.

With another animalistic snarl, Wei Ying lunges in the direction of A-Yuan, who screams in pure, unfiltered terror.

He's a hairsbreadth apart when Lan Zhan slams into his side, skidding across the kitchen into the cabinets that rattle dangerously upon impact. Ears ringing, Lan Zhan can barely hear his son’s hysterical cries over the ear-shattering howl coming from Wei Ying’s throat.

In a moment of near brilliance, Lan Zhan remembers his phone charging on the kitchen counter as per Wei Ying’s usual nightly reminder should he need it in the morning. Drool drips down his neck, a hand firmly holding Wei Ying in place by the teeth as he struggles to rise on unsteady feet. The mass of his newly-turned husband weighing him down. 

Lan Zhan  _ lunges _ for the phone.

Wei Ying is quick to follow. 

He hit the emergency contact number in time with Wei Ying’s swipe, knocking the phone to a further corner than he could reach with a beast upon him. “Wei Ying!” He  _ needs  _ him to wake up. Blood pools to the floor; he doesn’t know if it’s his or his husband’s. 

Wei Ying’s entire weight is on him, suffocating him, pulling him down as the wind knocks out of his heaving lungs, and various shades of black flash behind his heavy eyelids. It’s clear Wei Ying will not wake up of his own accord. The cogs in Lan Zhan’s head are quickly turning. Chewed up pieces of his pajama sleeves litter the floor.

In one swift movement, he nailed Wei Ying’s wolf between the ribs with his foot in a powerful kick that sent the beast sprawling backward head over tail and into the far counter. Lan Zhan, wincing in sympathy at the pained howl, scrambles in the opposite direction. There's sweat plastered in a thin sheen against his forehead, wrenching a bottom cabinet open, hands slick with sweat and blood. And then Wei Ying lunged again—

Only to go down, motionless.

The door burst open, pounding footsteps deafening his ears.

The sight of a wolfskin heap greets lan Xichen, blood painting the floor, and his little brother heaving for breath, a frying pan in both shaking hands. Just like that, everything slots into place. A-Yuan’s cries punctuate the dead silence.

Outside, the full moon shines brightly.

* * *

  
  


The first thing Wei Ying blearily registers when he awakens is Yanli’s spotless, white, Jin-quality couch. No designs, no loose fibers or blotched mustard stains, or even loose kernels of popcorn between the cushions. And the thought of a couch not being the social hotspot of the house is infuriating.

The next, a searing headache, his jaw hurts, and his limbs hurt as  _ everything _ aches so painfully dull. Even without looking, he's sure that the entirety of his body is decorated in yellow hued multicolored bruises. Is this what pro-wrestlers wake up to?

The third and final before his brain blanks into a sheer panic is Lan Zhan.

He comes up thrashing and yelling and raising a fuss, mind void of everything but the haunting desire to find his husband, to ensure he’s okay. He can’t remember beyond getting up for a teether. 

“Breathe,” Somebody says, Yanli, he thinks. “Xian-Xian, breathe.” And he does. It burns his throat the second he inhales a gulp of air, greedily sucking in between his clenched teeth attempting to disregard the scalding tears at the corner of his eyes and be. 

“Breath, one, two,” Yanli is counting gently yet firmly; he follows along with his breaths for several minutes until he’s calm enough to take a precautionary glance around the room. A little crowd has formed around him, and this stupidly expensive couch. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan, who has the decency to look mildly concerned, Yanli, and an absolutely devastated looking Lan Zhan still in his pajamas, teeth marks in his cuffs, hair a wild mess.

The sight makes his heart ache. “Lan Zhan,” he gasps involuntarily, and in moments said man is kneeling next to him, running one cool hand over his hot forehead.

“Wei Ying, you’re awake.” He says, and it sounds so relieved. 

”Mm.” That is all he can muster in reply, body heavy as lead. His arms ache, they scream in protest as he reaches up to comb a couple of strands of Lan Zhan’s messy hair with his fingers.

”What happened?” He feels Lan Zhan stiffen beneath his ministrations. ”Lan Zhan?”

The noticeable bob of his husband’s adam's apple is the only indication something is terribly wrong. It isn't like Lan Zhan to clam up like this suddenly. His worry must reflect on his face because he's looking up at Shije, who nods slowly, and the whole group takes on a solemn tone that, frankly, Wei Ying never thought them capable of.

Jiang Cheng takes it upon himself to be the bearer of bad news. ”You attacked Lan Wangji in your wolf form.” He sounds more concerned than angry. At the mention, everything clicks, the messy appearance of Lan Zhan, the bites on his cuffs, several scratches littering the exposed areas of his arms and chest. A piece— no, a chunk of one of his delicate antlers missing.

”Fuck, ” Wei Wuxian in a body that isn't his breathes. ”Shit, ” 

Lan Zhan has his hand on his cheek, gently thumbing it while Yanli squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

Everything is uncomfortably silent for a moment.

Lan Xichen breaks that silence eventually with a very soft suggestion. ”Perhaps it would be of best interest to do some research on this?” He's smart, in an envious type of way. It's like Lan Xichen inherited all the good traits. 

”I think so.” Yanli doesn't take her eyes off Wei Ying.

Wei Ying spent the remainder of the full moon balancing between a half-transformation and fitful sleep. Normally, it’s him who can sleep almost anywhere, the porch, sitting up, standing in a full lean against the wall. Yet, it’s the inner restlessness that punctuates something deep in understanding, almost mournful, unable to sleep.

An onslaught of thoughts attacks in rapid succession. Such as what might happen if Lan Zhan hadn’t the heart to knock him out? What if Lan Xichen hadn’t made it there when he did? What if he transforms again? A full-body shudder zings down his spine at that one. He imagines himself as a hulking beast, terrible and bloodthirsty. 

The little shut-eye he gets is plagued with nightmares.

When it’s time to get up, Wei Ying is grumpy and almost unreasonable to the point Lan Zhan has to haul him off the couch, arms crossed, teeth aching. “Nooooo—” He wails as his husband practically drags him to the table, setting him down on one of the cushioned mahogany chairs with a firm pat next to A-Yuan, who was coloring avidly in his coloring book. The chairs themselves could be described as the only tasteful arrangement in the Jin household. They were washed white, curved armrests, elegant and beautiful roses decorating the cushions, the stems peppered with gorgeous gold embroidery. It’s obvious Yanli chose them, not Zixuan. 

The sight of A-Yuan’s nervous smile and Jin Ling, barely one and a half toddling over, made things a little bit better. 

“Jin Ling! Say hello to your favorite Uncle!” At the sight of Jin Ling’s pudgy hands waving in a ‘hi’ motion, Wei Ying cooed loudly. “He’s so cute!” He then moves forward to place a kiss on the crown of A-Yuan’s head; the boy trembles minutely, and Wei Ying has only a moment to wonder before his thoughts are interrupted.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan says not unkindly, “We need to talk.”

Wei Ying’s smile dropped so quickly Lan Zhan found himself missing it. “About what?” It isn’t as if he doesn’t already know the answer, about last night, maybe Lan Zhan will say they need some distance for his safety. Maybe he will scold him for not telling them sooner that he was struggling. Perhaps, through some convoluted and fucked-up turn of events, they are separating. Then it will be just Wei Ying and the empty house with its creaky radiator noises and forty-thousand loose pens, pennies, post-it notes, and that niche picture of an orange-apple they have hanging in the entry-way.

However, Lan Zhan says none of these things, settling in the other chair beside him, taking his shaking hands in his own, and running a thumb down the whitening knuckles. “Where are you right now?” His voice cuts through the foggy stupor Wei Ying caught himself in.

“I don’t know— I—” He took a moment to think, processing a sure thought out of the many-many he has formulating among the mind space of his own head. “I don’t know.”

“Mn,” An encouragement to continue. Neither overly urging nor uninterested.

Wei Ying took a shuddering, slow breath as if on the verge of tears when in actuality, he’s on the verge of nothing. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.” He admits. If anything, he’d expected what? More teething? Certainly not the collateral damage it amounted to. God, they were going to have to pay for a whole new set of dishes and the countertops? Demolished.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan says as if he can sense his mind wandering again. Maybe they’re telepathically connected somehow. Is that what happens when you gain a spouse? Do you gain a second mind? He definitely believes that.

“I don’t know how to fix it, Lan Zhan, I don’t know where to  _ start.  _ I don’t even remember it happening; it just hurt everywhere, and then it was like— like I went back to sleep. I would never try to hurt you.” He tries to think of a joke to throw in there; alas, none wasn’t too appalling for even him. “It felt like I wasn’t even there. It wasn’t me; it was...someone else…”

Oh,  _ bingo. _

“That’s it!” Lan Zhan startles, jostling Jin Ling from his new perch in his lap, pulling at the tassels intricately woven between his antlers.

Lan Zhan peers at him curiously. “You think someone else was involved?” Jin Ling’s little teeth  _ hurt, _ yet Lan Zhan still manages to pay rapt attention to his husband.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Wei Ying breathlessly squeezes his husband’s hand. “You’re so smart, Lan Zhan! An absolute genius.” 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan indulges, although he hadn’t actually done anything.

“Do you know where Shije keeps paper? Wait, no, I think I know.”

Resolute, Wei Ying set to work while Jin Lin gnawed on Lan Zhan’s fingers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii i ended up having to rewrite this chapter a bit so it aligns with the plot which meant adding a-yuan in a chapter earlier and extending the fight scene bc im a whore for some life-or-death situations. anyway, I hope you'll continue to support this fic even though its been months since the last update lmao. deuces

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! i decided while i take a break from writing Buka to work on a mini series! of course it has to be monsters. as always my twitter is @yilangji and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
